


Would’ve Been An Angel All Year (But Tonight, You’re Here)

by sitandadmire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1D Christmas Fest, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Artist Harry Styles, Baker Liam Payne, Christmas Cards, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Making Out, Minor Niall Horan/Zayn Malik, Music, OT5 Feels (One Direction), OT5 Friendship (One Direction), Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Past Relationship(s), Quick mention of BDSM, Rich Louis Tomlinson, Romantic Gestures, Whipped Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitandadmire/pseuds/sitandadmire
Summary: Harry looks forward to posting a Christmas card to an old friend every December and getting one in return. Liam is a cheery baker who manages the long hours by dancing.They haven’t seen each other in ten years, until Liam shows up on Harry’s doorstep and Harry brings him to a Christmas Eve party. When Louis "the mastermind" Tomlinson, the only one with access to the smart house controls, refuses to let anyone leave until he’s satisfied including on-again/off-again couple Niall and Zayn... Harry realizes that it’s going to be a long, long night.A Friends to Strangers to Lovers AU.
Relationships: Liam Payne/Harry Styles, Niall Horan & Zayn Malik & Liam Payne & Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: 1D Christmas Fest 2020





	Would’ve Been An Angel All Year (But Tonight, You’re Here)

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt V. Title inspired by Eartha Kitt's "Santa Baby". I don't own any of the music/films mentioned throughout. This is a work of fiction for personal enjoyment. It doesn't represent any real persons or events.
> 
> Thank you to the fest mod! All mistakes are my own. I left out Louis' birthday cause I'm lazy, LOL sorry.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost or Translate**

"You're wearing a tie? Seriously?"

"I - Yeah, no thanks to you. I had to Google this place, Harry. See how fancy it was. 'Cause you wouldn't tell me."

Harry rolled his eyes a little. He had donned himself in his favourite blue jeans under a bold, bright red Christmas jumper that had been cropped shorter by his sister one year as a present - and a beige winter coat as his top layer to bear the current wind chill.

Maybe he had gotten used to the... “fanciness”. Or maybe the expectations of anyone who hadn't visited before weren't a surprise anymore.

It was just Louis' place after all.

A few years ago, he'd rung Harry screaming into the phone about how he'd signed the papers for a new house with S.M.A.R.T. capabilities in the middle of nowhere, meaning far enough away from London to not hear or see any public traffic.

When Harry first laid eyes on it, knowing how hard Tomlinson worked, he hardly felt any dissonance.

He simply smiled and asked Louis if there was a pool. 

"Well, stop pulling."

Harry shifted his position slightly, glancing casually but pointedly at Liam out of the corner of his eye, and taking in his appearance. 

Liam’s light brown hair, once shaved to the scalp as Harry remembered from their teenage days, had gotten quite long, and seemed to be carrying a flow independent of the wind. It looked like he’d failed to comb it well before Harry stopped at his hotel to pick him up thirty minutes ago. 

His blue tie was hanging above a button-down, crisp white shirt with long sleeves unfolded, and an outer black jacket that matched his trousers. It didn't seem like he'd gotten significantly taller than he was, just a little, but he had certainly put on more muscle - particularly around the chest and arms.

Harry looked towards the minimalist doorball with a camera above it, and wiggled his fingers in the air as if he were ordering something from a waiter.

Liam said nothing and watched him as he did this. 

After a moment and several clicks, the large steel door swung partially open.

Standing on an indoor welcome mat with a half-empty martini glass in one hand and wearing a burgundy bathrobe and a Santa hat was a familiar face. What sounded like classical music that Harry couldn’t precisely identify the name of drifted out from inside.

He bit at his bottom lip instinctively.

"Good eve-ning," Louis announced, as if a vampire had undergone a few accent lessons in his spare time and was starting to sound like a boy from Doncaster.

"Hi, Louis," Harry returned, briefly pausing before turning to Liam at his side with a fresh smile on his face.

"Harry.” Louis dipped his head. His eyes fell to Harry’s side. 

“And, who is _this_? My cameras didn’t recognise you."

Liam fidgeted with the bottom of the tie.

"I- I don't have any previous arrests." 

Louis laughed and downed the remainder of his drink. 

With one sharp swoop of his arm, he waved for them to come inside as if they were late and he’d been hovering by the foyer all day. Even though Harry timed it precisely so that, in avoiding Christmas Eve traffic as much as possible, they came right on time. 

He hated being last for things, especially parties at a place like this, where everyone stared at you as you walked in.

And as was natural with Louis, it was a toss up as to how many other people there were going to be or who exactly they would be. It depended largely on his mood.

Harry noticed Louis move past the two of them, switching places, to stand alone on the porch for a moment, surveying... something but Harry couldn’t tell what it was.

Louis said nothing.

He flipped the empty glass upside down to now hold it by its neck in one hand, before shooing both of them further into the foyer to close the door.

“Snow’s coming. Can’t you read the signs?”

Harry snorted, removing his coat and hanging it up on a nearby hook. Familiar smells of Louis’ abode, like fresh cinnamon and cologne, were tickling at his nose the more he moved inside.

He hoped Liam would soon pick up on the fact that half the time, Louis couldn’t and shouldn’t be taken seriously. It would make their conversations flow a hell of a lot more smoothly.

The other half of the time… well. That was something he wasn’t likely to be able to explain to someone who hadn’t experienced it firsthand.

“Can’t sit around all day studying the weather. Some of us have to work.”

“I work,” Louis protested, ignoring the probe about what he was really searching for.

Harry raised a brow, turning around. 

“In between 10 o’clock martinis and uh, bedazzling your jeans in the afternoon?” 

Liam laughed. 

Harry ran his hand across his neck as if to say cut it out. Liam hadn’t moved very far and was only halfway out of his coat jacket. 

“You're new. Don’t tease him about the jeans,” he said under his breath, leaning in slightly to give Liam a wink. 

Harry could hear Louis already in the process of walking away without a word, slippers flapping against the floor.

So Harry took the chance to look around the living room, since it was pointedly decorated, and a couple of things seemed new to him. 

Concrete walls on only two sides and glass on the other two. There was a second story, but the living room had nothing above - instead it opened up into a big mouth of a space. Green garlands covered in white twinkling lights were hanging across almost every window, save the tallest one near the ceiling. 

Hanging from the very center of the space was a chandelier. It reminded Harry of _Phantom of the Opera_. Even the (2004) film because damn, did Harry dig Gerard Butler in that one.

But the thing had been tweaked to the 21st century. All artificially lit and energy efficient.

There was even mood lighting should an occasion call for it.

Its presently gold glow sparkled in the fallen darkness of the new evening and splattered kaleidoscopes around the room. The walls were mostly stark white, with a single wall of marbled green and blue. For some uniqueness, Harry assumed at first.

In reality it had actually been a happy accident. Not unlike Louis' business ventures that Harry hardly understood the full technical side of, and his eventual success.

Just the wrong thing at the right time - is what Louis would say, brushing off the blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into it as well. Financially though, he would be set for, well, probably forever. 

The furniture was an eclectic mix and didn’t seem to match the general style or finish of the chandelier.

But it all screamed one thing: Louis.

A fireplace was on the far side of the room, black as a night without any stars, and Harry had been assured - twice - that the rugs in the center of the space were only faux fur replicas, locally produced and delivered to the outskirts of London.

Sat beside the fireplace in the corner opposite the front door and foyer was a large green fir tree with white tips. It was covered in a variety of delicate ornaments and shining bulbs. Underneath, resting on the white skirt with a lace trim, there were only a couple of packages. 

Harry reached for his back pocket.

“Harry -” Liam’s voice cut in. “Want something to drink? Louis is askin’.” 

He turned around, his brown penny loafer slipping slightly on the carpet, to meet Liam’s wide eyes. 

“I’ll have whatever Liam’s having,” Harry called out to the kitchen, without breaking his gaze. 

He let his eyes linger for a moment hoping some of the intensity would be lost in the distance between them.

Liam’s face had changed - so much of how he looked had changed. Yet his voice was the same, his walk, the way he tentatively greeted people and was always so bloody sincere and polite. 

Harry thought for a brief moment, while he accepted the stout glass with two perfectly shaped pieces of ice from Louis not long after, that if he had had half of Liam’s optimism, maybe - maybe things would have turned out differently over the last ten years.

He shook his head, licking his lips after a modest taste. It was a Jack and coke.

“So where’s everyone else? I thought you were having a party.”

Just then, the doorbell went off. 

It wasn’t a traditional and high pitched ding-dong. It sounded more like a church bell, quick, and lower, as if taken out of time and dropped there in Louis' place. Harry took another sip.

Liam sat down on the single reading chair closest to the fireplace - the flames glowing energetically behind him. 

He gave Harry a smile, but Harry was distracted by the noise at the door.

“Well! Look who finally found their missing shoes!” Louis crowed, making air quotes with both hands.

Niall’s laughter was sharp and authentic as he stepped into the foyer with Zayn’s arm linked casually with one of his. His other hand met Louis’ in a strong shake. Zayn didn’t let go.

His dark hair looked shorter than the last time Harry had seen Louis’ best friends, or maybe it was just that his turtleneck was higher up. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he must have been a bit bird-like, already trying to gauge what kind of night it was going to be with the two of them here.

He expected there to be more people following, Zayn greeting Louis with a steady, calm voice as usual. 

But when no one else entered behind them, the door shut and was locked into place again. Harry stopped craning his neck so much and shrugged to himself. Not far from him, Liam chuckled. 

“What?” Harry choked out, frowning.

Liam leaned forward to set his identical glass on a coaster atop the low riding crystal table, his ankles peeking out from underneath his trousers.

How they would keep track of whose drink was whose over the course of the evening remained to be seen.

“Nothing,” Liam said. “It’s - just that face you made. I know that face.”

“Do you?” Harry asked.

Liam nodded.

His restless fingers started to play again, this time not at the edge of a rather safe, predictable, adorable tie but at his fourth finger on his left hand. 

Harry’s eyebrows pulled together, then relaxed, and his mouth twitched. 

_It was only less than twenty-four hours ago that Liam had showed up on Harry’s poorly kept doorstep in a quiet neighborhood in West London._ _The plant in the pot that he’d gotten from a Sunday market had withered, and all but died with one leaf left._

 _Harry had thought it was his samosas with extra sauces being delivered, and he froze in place with the large tip in his hand - it had been raining all afternoon._ _Liam was standing there, drenched._ _He shivered and shifted, shoe squeaking slightly. He stuck his hands into his pockets and gave Harry a sheepish look._

_“Hi, I’m -”_

_“Liam?” Harry’s stomach dropped. “What - what the hell?”_

_Even his grin reminded Harry of the way his heart used to skip beats at such a genuine smile._ _Once Harry’s heart caught up to his brain, he shook his head and moved to stuff the money into his pocket, before gesturing for Liam to come inside._

_“Shit, it’s pouring. Where did you come from?”_

_“I was born in Wolverhampton in 1993, to Karen and -”_

_Harry stopped caring at the sound of Liam’s rambling familiar voice, and pulled him into a hug that might have been inappropriate, or rude, after all this might not have been the same Liam he knew ten years ago._

_Liam didn’t say anything, still shivering slightly, putting a flat palm against the middle of Harry’s back._ _Small footsteps echoed and the delivery girl came up the stairs in a raincoat and a tightly tied plastic bag. Harry looked at her when she stopped all of a sudden as if intruding on something important, her umbrella in one hand._

_Still holding Liam, he started waving._

_“Can we go inside? Please?" Liam mumbled._

_His breath was impatient and light on Harry's skin._ _Harry let go and felt the dampness against his clothing. He almost pushed Liam through the doorway, suddenly feeling his need for fried food dissipate, his thoughts starting to run a mile a minute, and the girl got a few steps closer._

_“Thank you. Here, just take all of it.”_

_Harry traded her the folded cash, took the bag of samosas, and subsequently left them by the door to get cold for the rest of the evening._

Zayn's boots clacked against the floor.

Harry watched as he removed them before he stepped down the small set of stairs leading onto the carpet and the recessed seating area. His socks were just as elegant as the stubble, the strong brow and jawline.

But his expression was soft.

He extended a hand.

“Harry,” Zayn said. Harry shook his hand. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Likewise,” Harry murmured. Zayn gave him a curt nod and moved to greet Liam, hand still extended. 

“I’m Liam,” he said to Zayn, “Liam Payne.” 

“Pleasure,” was all Zayn returned. 

Harry’s eyes wandered to Niall, who was dressed in a black turtleneck that seemed to be the same cut as Zayn’s only a different color.

He moved to set a small package beneath Louis’ tree, beside the other presents that were already there. No doubt the biggest one was from his sisters. 

Louis always insisted, for God’s sake, that no one buy him anything ever again. Of course, none of the three of them ever listened to that.

The music continued in the background; it had shifted to instrumental Christmas.

Harry reached for his drink and as soon as his fingers hit the cold class he glanced over at Louis, who was away in the open kitchen, leaning against the large granite island.

He was still wearing the Santa hat, but his hands were empty of any drinks.

His robe had also come off - thankfully he was dressed underneath. 

Louis half-winked at him. 

“Got any food, Lou? Starving.” Niall sighed and stretched out on the long, white couch.

“Then get your ass over here. I’m not serving you.”

This made Niall guffaw again.

Something made Harry stay in place, like a stone in a river as the water flushed over it, over and over, as Zayn and Niall both headed to the kitchen to begin devouring the holiday spread.

He had no doubt Louis was still hiding the rest in one of his refrigerators and already had some ready to give to the lads to take home to their families.

Harry cleared his throat, sensing movement next to him. Liam bumped his elbow playfully with Harry’s. He felt he might drop the glass.

He only squeezed it tighter before emptying the rest of its contents into his belly.

“They seem like good lads,” Liam commented.

“They are,” Harry said back. He shifted his feet and suddenly they felt suffocated inside his shoes despite the fact that his toes had a perfect half inch of extra space. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

When Harry emerged from around the sharp corner, having removed his penny loafers and gone down the hall to use the restroom, he reveled in the cool sensation of his bare feet against the hard floor. It was nice.

The fireplace was making the space feel toasty and well, Liam just kept getting closer to him. _If he had to remove his shoes to deal with it, what else was he going to end up taking off as the night went on?_

Harry offered a shy smile and jutted his head towards the food.

The others had already left with their plates - Niall’s was probably stacked sky high - clearing a path to the mustard sauce and perfect assortment of cheeses and meats all arranged on a wooden board, salads in white bowls, and several pastas in silver beds.

Long baguettes were sliced into pieces and rested along the top edge. Shrimp cocktail was multiplied by at least two and there was a platter of individual shepherd's pies.

Louis had disappeared with the Niall and Zayn train which, Harry thought, for a moment, was quite odd - given that Louis tended to stick to new people who entered his personal domain like glue.

_Harry still didn’t know why Liam showed up on his doorstep._

_He had stayed a couple of hours the night before, after he had showered and fallen asleep on Harry’s futon._

_They hadn’t talked very much, only Harry insisting that he shouldn’t go out again. Getting him a tea. Accepting Liam’s thank you, and giving directions to the toilet._

They both reached for a plate at the same time, and bumped hands. Liam pulled away. Harry took two and handed one to him without meeting his gaze. 

They picked through the food in silence, Harry scooping tri-color rotini pasta dressed lightly in pesto onto one corner of his plate then a few gouda circles, a generous amount of kale salad, a finger-pinch full of crackers, and he stopped suddenly at the dessert.

At a glance he noticed a line of tiramisu cake, mince pies, a single yule log with two cherries on top, and a selection of fruits.

“Wow. Is it always like this?” Liam asked. 

“With Louis? Yeah. Pretty much.”

“It’s… a lot.” 

Liam stabbed a couple of dill pickles and used his fingers to get them onto his plate without touching the serving fork.

Harry tried not to stare, his own hand poised above the green olives huddled together in a small crystal bowl next to the trough that Liam had taken the pickles from. 

“He lives alone? Seems like an awful big place for a bachelor.”

Harry cleared his throat, setting down the spoon for the spicy-hot mustard. There was some dribble off the side of his plate. He resisted the urge to bring his plate up to his lips and lick it right then and there.

Instead, he reached for a napkin and dabbed at the ceramic edge.

“As far as I know,” Harry answered. 

Liam didn’t say anything to that and when Harry looked up again, mid-scoop of some baby spinach, he could see the wheels slowly turning in Liam’s head.

Although, he did not know in exactly what direction they were turning and whether or not it was the right one. 

“Right. Well,” Liam continued and it made Harry wonder if he was nervous. Liam used to do that in school, chattering on in the hallway when he hadn’t studied for a test or when he was about to ask a girl to a dance, “Remind me to thank him before we leave.”

After everyone had their first fill of food, Louis stood up and clapped his hands together in a very host-like manner. He refused to take that bloody hat off and the white pom-pom swished against his sharp tannish cheek as he looked around at everyone.

“Time for fun and games?”

Niall groaned.

“Don’t think I can play anything. Need me a good napping now.”

“What kind of games?” Zayn cut in, lightly punching Niall in the arm. Niall closed his eyes and covered his face with his arm as he leaned back in his seat to digest his food, muttering something in Irish under his breath.

At this a grin, as wide and devilish as the Cheshire Cat himself would wear, appeared on his face.

Harry sighed. 

“Brace yourself, Liam,” Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“For what? What’s Louis mean?”

“What doesn’t he mean, is more like,” Niall said, sitting up again, blinking as if he had just slept for an hour. Zayn had a gentle hand on Niall’s bony knee.

“Oh come on,” Louis countered the chorus of his guests. “There’s only five of us. How much trouble can we get into?”

The room was silent. Harry opened his mouth and Louis turned to point at him. 

“Don’t answer that.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Harry said innocently, at least three distinct delinquent memories from a single week alone began to flood his brain and he pushed them back, throwing up his hands.

“Well… I’m in." Liam thought aloud. "After all, we are your guests. I’d be happy to partake in whatever you have planned for the evening.”

“Partake? Who says partake?” Niall twittered from the other side. Zayn was rubbing his chin, and without a word, he seemed to be agreeing with what Liam had just said. 

“Shut up, Niall,” Harry’s cheeks turned pink. “You play golf. What are you, 50?”

“Oi,” Niall shouted back. “Oi, get off me arse. I love golf.”

“Gentlemen - please,” Louis cut in.

Everybody fell silent as he reached into the pocket of his jeans for a small remote. He pushed a couple of buttons and the elegant, restrained music went quiet. Then, some upbeat pop music started up.

Harry wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this. 

Louis cleared his throat.

“For this evening I have prepared: a game of charades (the Louis edition), _Twister_ (Zayn raised his hand), D-I-Y popcorn wreaths, cookie or wine bottle decorating (Niall's eyes lit up), whichever you'd rather, and... “

Everyone leaned forward. Harry rubbed his sweaty palm on his thigh.

“Karaoke!”

At that Liam seemed to perk up, sitting straighter in his chair. 

Harry, in truth, was already longing for a nice dip in the hot tub, although it was in the middle of winter and he hadn’t exactly brought any swimwear. 

He rubbed his forearm with his thumb mindlessly. Harry'd probably be able to manage a decent cookie given how many long YouTube videos he watched about food lately.

_Which shape would he go for? What colors would he present? Would Liam use his fingers again, or a spoon and knife?_

Damn.

Dammmmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

"I'll do anything except the singing," Harry volunteered immediately, and very loudly, trying to move to the edge of his seat even though there wasn't really anywhere else to go. "I don't sing."

Louis and Niall looked at each other, then back at Harry, and burst out laughing. Even Zayn was grinning.

Harry turned even redder.

He stood up, waving his hands like he was wiping the front of a car at the corner wash. "I don't sing. I don't."

"He - he doesn't sing! He said - he -"

Louis doubled over with laughter, the pom-pom bouncing again, and Niall was draped over Zayn in giggles, scrawny legs kicking. Harry scowled a little, wiggling his bare toes.

He needed movement. 

Harry climbed the nearby steps and went into the kitchen looking for something to drink without ice in it. 

He was reaching for the handle of the nearest stainless steel fridge as Liam came jogging over behind him to catch up. His tie bounced against his stomach.

“Harry - hey -” 

Liam reached for Harry’s arm just as Harry went for a bottle of organic tequila with a festive label that made it more tempting than the actual taste did. 

Harry froze. He looked up at Liam, who was the absolute closest he’d been all night. Not to mention the fingerprints he was sure to burn into Harry’s jumper.

“You alright?”

Harry lifted the bottle out of its space and slowly closed the door, Liam’s hand falling away. He didn’t answer though, and turned towards the cabinets in search of shot glasses. Without stopping to ask he procured two clean glasses and set them side by side on the granite. 

Harry poured a full shot for himself, and half for Liam. 

_Maybe Liam stopped drinking as much as he used to back in the day._ _Maybe he didn’t drink at all anymore._

 _There was so much Harry didn’t know about what happened in his life in the last ten years._ _The cards never had any room for long winded stories, nor details, really only pleasantries and well wishes for the other's families. T_ _hey never called each other, or visited, just wrote._

_But Harry’s favourite thing besides checking the post box was, always and forever, his name written in Liam’s slanted scrawl._

Harry’s throat burned slightly after he clinked Liam’s shot glass with his and downed the alcohol in one go. Fighting a sudden grimace, and failing, he eventually managed a smile. 

“It’s -” He gestured towards the living room.

Liam looked confused. 

“Didn’t you win that singing competition? Back in Holmes Chapel? Like, every year for several years in a row?” 

Harry breathed out a laugh. He nodded.

“I did. My mum loved the trophies, but I hated them because they weren’t -”

“Real gold,” Liam finished, starting to grin. 

“I was such a diva,” Harry groaned, turning around to lean his back against the edge of the island. “I loved it, though. Being on stage. It was the best time of my life.”

“Well, why did you quit? I mean - I assume, by the way you just reacted over there, that you don’t sing anymore. Not like you used to.”

Harry looked down at the floor then back at Liam’s curious gaze, fixed on him, and he watched as Liam watched him. 

The two of them stood there in silence.

“Do you want the polite answer or the truth?” Harry’s voice was quiet.

Liam didn’t hesitate. “The truth.”

Harry’s foot bounced against the cabinet door below him. 

“I stopped singing when you left.” 

Liam didn’t say anything to this, whether he wanted to or not Harry couldn’t tell, but he simply waited - back to the stone thing - and Liam was the first one to break their eye contact in order to reach for the untouched shot glass.

He lifted it with two fingers and proceeded to tip its contents into his mouth.

Liam then let out something between a gasp and a cough, and started to pound at his own chest. Harry smiled a little, his expression softening.

Without thinking it through, he moved his hand closer to the hand that Liam had on the counter’s edge.

“First time?”

“In a while, yeah. Yeah.” 

Harry hummed. “Okay.”

He moved his hand away, and straightened up, pushing off the counter. 

Harry could see Louis watching them from the living room - but pretending not to - as Niall and Zayn got into another heated discussion just between the two of them that Harry couldn’t exactly hear over the music. It looked like two pieces of opposite sides of the same game were at war.

Louis’ manicured brows were raised towards the ceiling.

“Maybe we should go back. Play one of Louis’ games.”

Liam coughed again as Harry spoke.

“Sure. I think we can manage that.”

The sound of Liam saying ‘we’ followed Harry like a ghost at his bare heels all the way back to the other lads.

Except he didn’t sit in the lone chair this time.

He sat on the couch right next to Liam. Together they endured what had to be a solid hour-long game of charades. 

Turns out Zayn was extremely good at charades. But Harry knew a thing or two about Louis’ childhood, so it ended up in a perfect tie - and with Niall stealing the cards and tossing them into the air with a mischievous yelp. 

Zayn wandered down the hallway just as Louis turned around and said, “So, _Twister_ , lads?”

Harry shook his head at the same time Niall did.

“Bad ankle,” he said with a straight face. 

“Bad knee,” Niall said with less than a straight face, cheeks bulging and twitching. 

Louis stared at them, looking from one face to the other, stopping to smile genuinely at Liam before sighing, and throwing his hands up in surrender.

Without the Santa hat, he looked different. Some of his hair was sticking up and it had been shaved down on the sides. 

There was also a small, mysterious bruise on his temple.

“God, sorry I _forgot_ \- I can only play that with my Friday yoga group.”

“Sorry, love,” Harry said but he wasn’t really, still secretly longing for the hot tub. 

He glanced at the round clock on the wall to see that it was already half past nine. It didn’t seem like they’d been there for a couple of hours already, but his stomach started gurgling just then as if to remind him.

“Hungry?” Liam quipped. 

Harry ignored him.

“Lou, can I do the cookie thing?” 

“N -.... _Yes_.” He gave Harry a look and seemed to jut his chin in Liam’s direction. “You do that. I’m gonna run to the loo.” 

He tossed the media remote at Niall who caught it against his chest with one hand. 

“Change the music if you want. I have everything.”

“Sweet,” Niall murmured after a moment, wasting no time to start pressing buttons.

“Um, I guess it’s just us.” Liam stood up. 

Us. Okay, us. _First we, then us._

Harry could do this. He could decorate some cookies. 

Right? 

It was fine.

He was fine.

Liam was… fine. _Very fine._

Harry watched from the edge of the kitchen. His feet pressed flat against the floor, his heart pounding slowly inside his chest and he held one elbow behind his back as Liam maneuvered around.

Liam quickly opened a few cabinets, closed them, and stuck his head under the island more than once. He even disappeared into the pantry around the corner and exclaimed “a-ha!”

A dark grey apron appeared out of nowhere, waving like a peace flag.

“Want one?” Liam asked a moment later; his voice was muffled as if he was getting lost amongst boxes and boxes of cereal and organic chia seeds. 

“I- Yes, please,” Harry said, not sure what he was agreeing to. 

He didn’t know whether he really was just hungry, or whether he wanted to keep his hands busy, or whether it was the sound of Liam’s voice - or the music shifting again behind him, ringing vaguely in his ears - because Harry unfroze again.

In a far corner was a bag of supplies with a smiley face on a post-it note on top. 

“For cookie decorating” it said in small handwritten letters. Harry smiled and cupped his hands around the bag, lifting it carefully and bringing it over to the island.

“Here ya go, I found another apron. Don’t want to get dirty.”

“It’s just cookies, Liam.”

Liam’s shoulders sagged in the middle of tying the wings around his waist. He moved to unbutton his long-sleeves and roll each one up to his elbows. 

He gave Harry a sheepish smile.

“Baker’s habit. Sorry. Er - Do you want me to tie it for you?”

“Sure,” was all Harry managed, hands still cupped around the gallon bag of different frostings and what looked like sprinkles and candies. It wasn’t heavy at all yet Harry couldn’t seem to just let it fall to the counter. 

Liam’s eyes were cast downward, focused on reaching around Harry’s midsection. Harry stayed silent, and still, like a mouse.

A delicate tune Harry loved, about a long list of requests for Santa, was blasting over the speakers. There was something so... sweet but elegant about it.

He could easily see Liam’s chest moving as he breathed.

Harry expected Liam to let go, but he didn’t, pulling the wings tighter than necessary and pulling himself closer to Harry in the process - he was warm, that much Harry could feel instantly. There were the clear beginnings of stubble, dark and sharp, along his upper lip and dotting his jaw line.

Liam lifted his eyes; they were deep, and brown like a good whiskey. Then he dropped his arms and stepped back.

Harry turned away and set the bag down on the granite as if it weighed ten times as much.

“Can you get the - the -”

“Cookies?”

“Yeah - the cookies -”

“Uh, where would the cookies be?”

Harry scratched his head.

“The o-oven, I suppose.”

They took turns washing their hands in the small basin at the end of the long island and each sat down on revolving stools, legs tucked under the countertop. Liam laid out a section of parchment paper for them to share. 

Harry cleared his throat, surveying the tray of plain sugar cookies cut into different shapes.

“So, uh - Liam, you’re a baker now?”

“That I am. Started ages ago, with my nan. Kind of fell into it after secondary school. I wanted to go to culinary school, but - uh couldn’t afford it then, even though I was working two jobs on the side.”

He vaguely remembered something about Liam insisting on making his parents’ cakes every year for their anniversary and their birthdays.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, selecting two good-looking gingerbread men with a spatula and sliding them onto his section of the parchment paper. “That must have been hard.”

“It was.” Liam sighed, like he was remembering something in particular. “Luckily, a mate of mine had space for me at his bakery, so he trained me. The long hours can be atrocious, love it though... Been there ever since.”

Liam had a star shaped cookie in front of him and what looked like an angel. He started digging into the frostings, laying out the sealed bags to make a decision.

“Huh,” Harry said, trying to put a tiny candy eyeball on his left gingerbread man, but it just rolled off.

“Well, what do you think of these?”

Liam looked away from the frosting and picked up the star cookie. He sniffed it once, then twice, turning it over in his hands and examining the edges.

Harry’s mouth puckered as a smile grew, plastering itself on his face against his will.

Then, Liam chuckled.

“Louis bought them, didn’t he?”

“Ye-eah.”

“Right. Points for the effort of putting them on a tray, I suppose.”

Harry laughed. “The upside is that they aren’t burnt, and he gets the same ones almost every year, so you know they’ll taste good.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to the taste then.” Liam smiled at him, hand poised in the air.

He looked back down and started piping some white frosting around the bottom of the angel-shaped cookie. It was silent for several moments.

Even the living room seemed empty.

Maybe Louis had dragged Zayn and Niall onto a house tour (no one ever asked for these, yet he gave them anyway).

Last Harry heard, he renovated his own bedroom and had redecorated the other three. 

_“Theming, Harry, a good bedroom or guest room needs theming,”_ he remembered Louis always saying.

“How about you? What, uh, do you do?” 

Harry was drawing hair onto the right gingerbread man with brown frosting. It was turning out to look some cross between spiky and mushy.

He squeezed the bag again, without twisting it properly, and too much came out of the spout.

“I - make illustrations for books. Children’s books, most often. I do covers and sometimes chapter pages, or special editions. It depends.”

“Really? You’re an artist?”

“You’ve been to my tiny flat, you’re seriously asking me that question?” Harry said.

Liam shook his head, looking slightly scandalized.

“No, no, I mean that it sounds amazing. You just...don’t seem too thrilled. If I’m being honest.” 

Harry shrugged, starting to draw a little tie in frosting.

“I’m good at it. It pays the bills most of the time. I get all kinds of free copies and stuff… usually donate them where I can... but -”

“It’s not what you were meant to do.”

Harry made a face, squinting with one eye. He looked around the kitchen and over his shoulder as if he were under scrutiny but he didn’t see anything besides Louis sitting cross-legged on the couch and all but a fresh cigar in his hand.

“No. I don’t think so. At least, I hope not.”

Liam sprinkled some gold dust on the angel’s wings and halo, and set it aside to dry. He brushed his hands together to get some of the extra residue off before reaching for the star.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

"What about Niall? He live around here?"

"Sports announcer." Harry grinned. "Locally, for now. Wants to make it into the big leagues 'n all that, so he moved here from Mullingar ages ago - but he's had some tough luck."

"Huh. And Zayn?"

"Hand model." 

"Really?" Liam's eyebrows arched. "With that face, I mean, not... alright."

Harry shrugged.

Liam started painting the tips of the star with diluted colors.

“Say, what’s Louis doing for a living?”

Harry groaned.

“Don’t make me explain it.” 

“Your wish is my command,” a voice said behind the two of them.

Louis came up from behind them, leaning in over each of their designs as if judging them. His eyebrows went up and down too dramatically to be real.

He tapped his chin, then turned around and leaned against the counter.

“You want the long version, or the short version?”

Harry coughed against his fist.

“Short - version.” 

Louis narrowed his eyes.

"I put salt in those cookies."

He crossed his arms.

"You - you bought these!" Harry cried back, throwing a near empty bag of frosting at Louis and it missed, but hit Liam in the cheek on the way over the edge, leaving a red smudge. 

Louis laughed, nodding. 

"Yeah. I always buy them. Baking? In my house? Pfft."

"Liam is a baker," Harry interjected, sitting up a little straighter on his stool.

"Oh... That's interesting. I'll remember that."

Liam just smiled, reaching for a bag of green frosting, still waiting for the story.

Harry shook his head.

"Right. My success story." Louis cleared his throat. "It began, long ago..."

He stopped speaking when Niall and Zayn came around the corner. Niall was under one of Zayn's arms and they looked.. well, cosy.

Clearly something had happened from the time they were jabbering on the couch about who knows what, to now.

Good for them. It was better when they didn't fight. Harry wished they would make a choice once and for all, to be together or not.

Then again, what with his sad excuse for a love life, it's not like he had any room to judge.

"Louis started working in music production when he was 18, dabbled in coding and computer programming, discovered some kind of shite thing that ended up being useful in astrodynamics. Story over," Niall said in one breath, as if he had heard it -and been forced to summarize it and repeat it - many times.

Louis huffed but nodded along, and reached for a cracker before taking a bite.

It crunched loudly, perhaps just enough to convey his annoyance.

He took another bite. 

Zayn pressed a kiss to Niall's cheek and went over to see what Liam was making.

Harry's eventual laughter at Louis rubbing his bare fist on Niall's head, Niall screaming about his hair and running out into the living room, subsided when he turned back and realised Zayn and Liam were having an entire conversation about the delicacy of baking and intricacies of cookie decoration.

This... was a side he hadn't really seen before, a side of Liam.

Open. Relaxed. Confident.

_The young Liam he knew mostly played football on weekends, hid cans of beer under his bed, and although he was a good kid at heart and loved his family more than anything in the world, seemed to always be angry about something._

_It evolved_ _a little over the years, Harry recalled then, but not by much._ _They had had their laughs together and Liam had Harry's back, but..._

_Whenever Harry tried to get through to him, to tap into more than that - like custard being useless against a brick wall, nothing ever seem to work to reach Liam's core._

Yet, here he was... just sitting next to Harry, offering to tie aprons and discussing baked goods.

"Oh, I never knew that! Thanks, mate." Zayn patted Liam on the shoulder and left Harry alone with Liam. Harry could have sworn that Zayn gave him a look of approval as he went past them.

Harry was now moving side to side in the chair, bored of his gingerbread men. Neither was finished.

He stared at the red smudge that was still on Liam's cheek.

Harry licked his thumb and against his better judgement, leaned forward and Liam only just turned his head to see Harry with his wet thumb reaching out to him. He lowered the spatula.

"You've got a little - something," Harry said quietly. Liam said nothing to this, but still he seemed receptive. He nodded as if to say, go on.

So Harry scooted closer, now leaning so far off his stool he might fall off any second, and pressed his thumb against Liam's warm skin, swiping away the frosting like a wind shield wiper would swipe something much less wonderful.

"Sorry for marking you."

"It's alright. I've taken worse in the face," Liam said back, his voice low.

Harry's stool began to tilt, the legs now unbalanced against the ground because of his shifting weight, and he was clearly wobbling so Liam reached out to steady him - one hand against his back, and fingers just barely touching Harry's stomach.

"Oops. Careful now."

Harry leaned back, Liam's hands still on him, only letting go when the stool moved back into place, balanced again. 

"Thanks," he breathed. He looked up at those whiskey headlights. "Liam, I-"

Just then, Louis' voice rang out again. He was waving handfuls of jingle bells with straps and microphones.

"Karaoke time!"

"Sticks to a schedule, doesn't he?"

Harry swallowed, then laughed softly.

"Yep. You can count on Louis for that."

Louis handed Liam some bells and Harry got one of the microphones.

He stared down at the chunky thing in his hand. It felt heavy, but not unfamiliar. Something wormed its way into his stomach. Nerves, maybe.

He tried to smile at Liam, who seemed excited, and was settling himself onto the couch - apron no longer in sight - right between Niall and Zayn.

Harry stepped away from the projector and the twinkling words that were now showing on the empty white wall. Before everything got too rowdy again, Harry pulled Louis aside into the foyer. He scratched the back of his ear.

"Um, Lou - so, I think I'm gonna go. Call it a night."

"Harry - why - are - we- whispering?"

Harry stammered. 

"I just don't think I can do this, okay?" He stuffed the microphone into Louis' hands. "Make sure Liam gets a cab."

Louis opened his mouth as Harry started reaching for his penny loafers, but then Liam called out his name.

"Styles - you leaving?"

Niall straight-up booed from beside him.

"I'm sorry about what I said! About your outfit! I didn't mean it, swear!"

Harry stood up straight, one foot still bare.

"What did you say about my outfit?"

"Nothing," Niall called back. "Get home safe!"

Liam started up the steps and was standing right next to Harry before he could stop him. The tie bounced against his stomach and Harry wanted to rip the damn thing off. He looked down, fiddling with his shoe.

"Don't - don't go," Liam said.

"Why not?" 

It took Liam a long second to answer. He looked between the living room where Zayn had filled the gap he'd left next to Niall, and Louis who was standing behind Harry.

Louis, however, had been inching closer and closer to the door. 

"I thought we might sing together," Liam answered. "Like, old times."

Harry closed his eyes.

_How could he say no? Liam bloody Payne with his bloody puppy dog eyes, that smile, the - old times. We, us, old times._

_This had to stop._

_Harry didn't know if he could take it anymore._

But just as he sighed, steadying himself, trying to think a bit more optimistically... cause maybe his singing wasn't so rusty, there was a click and a beep behind him. Harry dropped his shoe.

"Louis, what did you just do?"

Louis shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets.

"Nothing... only..." He faked being shy. "No one can get out that front door without my eye scan _and_ twelve-digit code." At this, Niall and Zayn had made their way over. Both looked a little confused.

Liam was still standing there with a hand outstretched towards Harry as if he were a net and Harry was a flyball.

"Tommo? What's going on?"

"I have seen enough this evening. Not only have we all been drinking, but you four in particular have been - how shall I say, a fucking mess?" Louis smiled.

"Every door and garage in this house is sealed until I'm satisfied that everything is a-okay. Which might be, you know, a while.

Good thing I have themed guest rooms."

Zayn shrugged. Niall snickered. Harry growled.

Liam's lips were downturned, as if, maybe, he weren't entirely opposed to the idea.

"Karaoke?" Louis chirped. "And maybe some water, I think we're all dehydrated. My poor pores."

Everyone shuffled back to the living room, going around Harry and he simply sighed, slumping against the wall. His throat felt dry. He bowed his head. 

"I'll go first. You don't have to sing right away." Liam put his hands on Harry's shoulders, squeezing his forearms slightly. "Let's humor Louis and, maybe he'll let us go."

Harry smiled weakly.

"You don't know Louis like I do."

"Okay. You're right. So what?"

Silence. Harry met Liam's gaze. Harry's cheeks felt flushed.

"What's the worst that could happen? You have fun?" 

"It's not that."

"Then what is it? I - Harry, I came to this party with you. For you."

Harry laughed breathlessly.

"I know, and I can't figure out why."

Liam offered Harry a gentle smile. He touched his fingertips.

"Meet me in the middle so you can find out," he whispered, leaning in, then leaving Harry to gather the pieces of himself that had fallen to the floor - especially his memory of Liam moving away from Holmes Chapel for a different life ripped to the surface from its resting place.

_Even though he was never Harry's to keep._

Liam hopped down the tri-steps and onto the carpet.

Harry took off his shoe, and followed.

They started off easy. A couple of 80s hits - then 90s - all of which Zayn could nail with one eye open and Niall had to take big breaths and drink extra water to cool down his hysterics even though he kept asking for more beer.

Harry managed to relax the longer the songs came and went, and the scores rating their performances - solo, duet, or group - flashed on the wall.

Louis was outraged when he only got an 80 out of 100 on a Madonna super hit.

During the next song, Niall started crying actual tears. He'd changed the settings just moments before the song started playing so when he and Liam tried to team up for a duet it was in a much deeper pitch than the original.

The laughter was contagious. Harry's shoulders felt much less tense somewhere between the sixth and eighth song. He mouthed words here and there, memorized lyrics from his childhood, or songs that he listened to even today.

But he never really lifted his microphone to his mouth. Instead the bulb tapped against his leg rhythmically and his head bobbed.

It wasn't until the first Adele song came up on screen (as part of a random selection) that they all turned and looked at Harry. 

"What?"

Niall scoffed, crossing his arms as if to say he was not going to take this one or else risk getting a low 50s score.  
  
"Hello? It's Adele. I'm not doin' it."

"Which song?" He said to no one in particular, even though the title was in big rounded letters across the wall. It sparkled and danced hopefully, waiting for them to press play.

Harry felt Liam shift in his seat beside him, his knee bumping Harry's thigh. 

"D'you know [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyVS2N8aK-U), Liam? Sing it with me?"

"Oh, uh, don't know the words... I can give it a try though."

"They're on the wall, Liam," Zayn pointed out.

Liam aimed the microphone at him.

"Hit it, Louis."

Harry stood up just as the first few notes drifted from the speakers. The lyrics hadn't appeared yet on the wall, so he positioned himself in the gap in front of the table - which had been temporarily pushed aside to create more room in the tight space.

Liam was next to him, adjusting his tie. 

"I'll take the first part, you're second, and so on. It'll tell you when we go together," Harry whispered quickly.

It couldn't have been a more fitting tune.

Harry loved this song. It was filled to its artistic, emotional brim with nostalgia and - just the truth of things.

The way we long for the past, the people we knew then, the things left unsaid or unfinished. The unknown of whether another person still cared after all this time. 

_When they were young, Harry always felt like Liam would orbit around him._ _At school, outside of school - when they watched telly and ate popsicles in the summer, or Liam's mum's freshly baked chocolate cookies with real cranberries. Harry didn't mind the cranberries when he ate them with Liam._

 _Things were easier. Slower, then._ _It was hard not to long for such friendship, and for such a comforting routine._

Harry kept focused on the lyrics, but finally met Liam's gaze during the last several lines, tuning out the other boys completely.

Liam raised his brows, singing a bit louder, looking very comfortable with a microphone. Probably even more than Harry looked - and singing was supposed to be his thing.

The song finally ended, Harry bowing his head slightly, dragging out the last few words. He turned to the wall and waited for their score to appear:

**"90! Nice! You're a rockstar!"**

Everyone cheered.

"You were amazing."

Liam squeezed Harry's shoulder, bumping him with the clunky microphone. But Harry didn't say anything in return, just watching Liam turn around to seek out his next partner.

Zayn and Liam nailed more than one Lana Del Rey song together and Niall looked at Zayn throughout all of it like he was a tree he wanted to climb.

Then Liam went full solo on a somber Christmas tune that fit his voice perfectly, and sorta made Harry wish he was back home in his bed, on the second story of his mum's house in Holmes Chapel.

Harry tugged on the collar of his jumper. He met Louis' gaze and mouthed some words.

Louis nodded and pointed towards the stairs. Harry knew what he meant.

There had been a duffel bag of clothes that Louis had found, of Harry's stuff from when they lived together at Louis' old place, and later brought over. Harry never seemed to pick it up.

They always forgot, and so it went around in an awkward circle of never being brought home.

When Harry came back, wearing a plain white-shirt and the same jeans. His feet were still bare and sweat tickled at his forehead. The words ["Landslide" (Fleetwood Mac)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONzuVds6hPE&list=PLcKagq8xKmplyjOj5WKDTio-x9F6noP94&index=24&ab_channel=BagherMusic) were plastered on the wall and Harry picked up the pace a little, almost tripping down the last few stairs. 

"Thought we might all do this one?" Louis suggested.

"I'm hungry," Niall complained. "Is it the last one?"

Louis shrugged. "Fine by me. If we score 95 or more."

It turned out to be the perfect song for the five of them.

There weren't enough roles (singer 1, singer 2, etc.) built into the song for a whole group, so technically it was a duet. But then something happened after the first two verses, and both Louis and Zayn underlined the rest of their voices, carrying them through the chorus -

Niall actually stopped laughing and looked about as serious as he had all night so far -

Harry closed his eyes, letting the words he knew by heart flow. He could hear Liam's clear notes next to him. 

_Maybe in another life, they could have all been in a band. A great one._

There was an instrumental break, so Harry opened his eyes. He couldn't help but smile genuinely at the way the room had gone completely calm, the chandelier above casting bright stars across the five of them.

They all continued to sing together, Zayn was holding Niall's hand, and Louis was singing with such vigor that he had a hand on his chest.

Until eventually, Louis flipped Niall off and Harry sang through laughter, pushing them into the last verse.

Liam went high, and his voice trailed off as the fake applause from the karaoke program started up.

**"WOW! You can sing! 98!"**

Louis frowned.

"Since it's my party, we're just gonna round that up to 100. Well done, lads!"

By now it had to be somewhere after ten o'clock. Harry yawned a little, certainly not feeling as young and spry as he used to, and stretched so that his shirt rode up by accident.

He noticed Liam staring at him.

"Jello shots?"

"Jesus, Louis," Niall retorted, "What happened to "let's all drink water?"

"Well, I put... very little alcohol in them. Very little." Louis muttered something else under his breath to Niall, his teeth gritted into a smile as he elbowed him.

Harry would never ever understand how Louis' brain just always seemed to be... on, and full of ideas. Perhaps it was the luxury of time.

Contrary to his statement, Louis only let each lad take one or two shots from under his nose. They were red and green, of course. 

Zayn helped Louis put some of the food away that had been sitting out while Niall begged for a pizza, but Louis reminded him that that would require opening the door for the delivery person, and nobody, I mean nobody, was going to make a run for it now. But he let Niall dig into his freezer section for frozen pizza to appease his appetite and give them all some absorbent carbs.

Harry's stomach rumbled, so he happily took a piece and was offered another jello shot - which he declined immediately.

He had to take it relatively easy, otherwise his guts might be on the floor and _that_ would be embarrassing.

Especially in front of Liam.

Not that he needed anything else. Harry's veins felt more electric now than any previous time in the evening. Liam sat next to him at Louis' dining table. They both ate only one good-sized slice each, more focused on talking quietly to each other and reminiscing. Harry walked Liam through his experience of applying to law school, and getting a stack of rejection letters.

Eventually Niall disappeared up the stairs to the second floor, asking Louis about his special movie room so naturally, Zayn followed.

Harry looked up while wiping his mouth to realize that they were alone again.

Liam picked up the media remote that was on the table where Louis had stopped to set his drink.

"Is this - like, the music control?"

"I think so," Harry nodded. Liam poked the buttons then looked up. Harry followed his gaze.

Nothing happened at first. He poked a different button and vintage boy band crooning blasted from the speakers. He wondered how often Louis must listen to some of this music for the algorithm to bring it back around.

Actually, he didn't want to know.

"I'm more of an *NSYNC man myself," Harry admitted, looking down from the ceiling where the large recessed speakers were.

He remembered making up his own choreography to their best songs when he was thirteen.

The lighting seemed to have gotten dimmer, too, and Liam wasn't at the table anymore.

Could Harry keep up?

He finally saw Liam in the new shadows moving to the fireplace with a hand out, trailing his pizza fingers undoubtedly still slightly greasy across the top of one of Louis' couches but not touching the material. It was a bold move.

"Wanna dance?"

The opaque, orange flames licked the inside of the fireplace. Harry swallowed, with a nod, saying nothing and letting his feet guide him across the rugs to where Liam was standing.

It definitely felt warmer. Harry smiled when he got the close. 

"Hi," he said. "Um."

He didn't know what to do. So he just started moving his shoulders. He plugged his nose and did the scuba move. Harry kept going - starting to do a broken sprinkler, followed by churning butter after that.

"Like this?"

Liam raised his eyebrows.

"That's... oh, Harry. You're even worse than I remember."

Harry stopped and lightly punched his shoulder.

"I sing, I never said I could dance," he mumbled.

"Well," Liam said, stepping closer, "Lucky for both of us, I dance in my spare time. A lot."

"You do?" He tried to picture young Liam, all awkward and going through growing pains at sixteen, actually having some good moves.

Then he blinked and Liam's eyelashes were so close to his, and his strong hands were on Harry's hips. 

"It gets boring sometimes at the bakery. Can't really sing, cause people will hear. So I dance in between batches, or when I'm doing a fair bit of kneading in the early morning."

Now _that_ image, combined with the current Liam, was much more interesting.

"Uh huh," Harry managed, as Liam released his hands from Harry's hips and together they started to get into some sort of groove.

The music playing overhead [shifted ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj5zT4t7S6c&ab_channel=SigalaVEVO)to something fun that Harry hadn't heard before.

Harry's smile was lopsided on his face as he leaned closer and they changed their dancing movements to better match the change in tempo. As soon as Liam started fist pumping, Harry almost fell down in laughter - one of the first genuine, belly-aching laughs he'd had probably all year.

Liam caught him without modesty, and Harry could smell cologne and sweat on Liam's shirt.

He spun Harry around once, then pulled him close so that his back was pressed against Liam's front, before sliding his hands down Harry's arms.

Liam eagerly spread Harry's fingers on one hand, interlocking them with his. 

They rocked against each other, Harry barely catching his breath in between blood-pumping notes. His feet were slipping on the faux fur, and his cheeks were getting more flushed as his heart rate went up.

_This was, by far, the closest that Liam had been all night._

Harry tugged the plain tie over his shoulder and could feel Liam right through his trousers at this angle, full enough against his thigh. And the thing was...Harry didn't want him to go anywhere.

Liam's quickened breaths landed against his neck and Harry's hairline above the back of his neck was becoming lined with sweat. 

"See," Liam panted, "You can dance."

"You're making me," Harry breathed back, turning his mouth slightly. He could see Liam's parted lips but it wasn't enough.

Harry turned himself around in Liam's embrace so that he was facing him, but he used his hips to grind close to Liam, his thigh bumping in between Harry's legs.

Wired, Harry tilted his chin towards the ceiling as the song continued, the living room empty of everything but the two of them silent and lost in each other's molecules - until something caught Harry's eye.

"Wait."

He slowed his dancing, and pulled away from Liam, but took one of his hands and dragged him to the kitchen.

As clear as day, as bright as sun, presented to them as if by magic, was a single red can of whipped cream.

But Harry moved past it, nearly diving into the container with half-melted ice filled with various eco-friendly water bottles, ginger beers, and some other things that Harry couldn't care less about. He took a good sip, but too quickly, so that some of the fresh water dripped down his chin and onto his shirt.

"Mm - sorry. Needed water. Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?"

Harry's grip on the bottle was light so after he took another gulp, Liam slipped it from between his fingers and took a few swigs as he went round the island.

He capped the water bottle, nearly empty now and its body half crushed with the weight of both of them, and clearly reached for the whipped cream.

Harry watched silently, lips parted, limbs still vibrating.

He flexed his hand as Liam cornered him in between the fridge and the island.

"What're you doing?"

Liam stared at him, whiskey headlights burning. 

"Liam," Harry warned, holding up one hand, magnets pressing into his shoulder. "I'm lactose intolerant."

So, that was half true.  
  
Whitney Houston continued singing behind them. Harry knew a thing or two about dreaming about boys, and falling in love every time they met. That’s exactly how he felt about Liam, but he’d never admitted it to anyone else.

Even after all these years he was still impossibly, infuriatingly, stubbornly drawn to Liam Payne.

"Good thing this is - lactose and dairy-free,” was all Liam said, clearly having read the sticker on the can, shaking it a few times.

Harry choked out an amused laugh. He wasn't nervous about the can, it was the fact of who was holding it.

"Go on then. Do it."

Liam tilted the can upside down and pressed the tip of it to Harry's neck. A little too hard, actually. He wondered if the star shaped imprint would leave a mark. Cream spilled out of the container and Liam said nothing else, just pressed his mouth against Harry's skin.

It was cold, and soft, and Harry was about to lose his mind knowing that Liam was running his tongue up his neck. Harry's lower gut in particular was on fire, and when Liam finally pulled away - his full lips were coated pure white. That was all it took: the obscene, honest image of Liam reaching up to wipe his face with his fingers for Harry to lean in and press his wanting mouth hard against Liam's.

He hummed, letting his lips part and letting Liam guide him into a long kiss.

Harry moved to wrap his arms around Liam's midsection, slipping one hand further down his backside and Liam slid his tongue into Harry's mouth the longer and harder they kissed. He whimpered, putting his whole body into it. It seemed like Liam was shaking a little with Harry practically on top of him, but Harry couldn't tell for sure.

_He just wanted to be one body, instead of two._

But - a sudden thought in his mind and the sound of the whipped cream can clattering when it fell over caused Harry to open his eyes and push a hand at Liam's chest. Liam took a step away from him.

His eyes were dark, and hard to read, even though Harry scanned his face as thoroughly as he could.

"I have to tell you something," Harry breathed.

His lips wanted more. But his mind was on pause. To his surprise, Liam didn't shake his head - or turn and leave.

He just stood there, and with a nod, he replied:

"Got something to tell you, too."

"O-kay. You first."

"No, it's better if yours is first."

Harry's stomach twisted at this. He tried to brace himself for something bad, but there wasn't really much time to.

"Louis and I - we -" Harry was out of breath. He sighed, dropping his hands. "He's my ex-boyfriend. We dated for two years."

Liam ran a hand through his hair. 

"I know. I know, and it's alright."

His answer seemed rehearsed.

"You knew?" 

"No, but well, Zayn told me earlier. I overheard him and Louis talking about it. Louis said you guys are just friends now and -"

"And what?" Harry said, feet piled over each other, trying to make himself smaller in the space he stood.

"That if I hurt you, he'll find me."

Harry's lips curved. He rubbed his forearms.

"He said that?"

"No. He said he would kill me. But, you know, details."

It was silent then.

The whipped cream was still on its side. The music coming from the speakers had stopped. There weren't many sounds to be heard, except perhaps very faintly in the distance was Louis shouting and the sound of video game controllers being pounded aggressively.

Harry met Liam's gaze again.

The look in his eyes changed. Liam opened his mouth to speak when there was a vibration in his pocket. He pulled the phone out. 

"What was it - that you were gonna tell me?" Harry asked, scratching his elbow.

"Uh, well -" Liam said, turning the phone around to show Harry the screen.

There was a new message from someone, and the wallpaper behind it was a photo of Liam with a young woman with wavy jet black hair and wearing a big t-shirt and pajamas. They looked... cosy.

"This is Sydney, my ex-wife."

Harry made a sour face like he'd eaten a lemon. That, or he was examining a piece at an art exhibit and had no idea how to critique it but he wanted to be polite.

"Your - w- your wife?" he repeated.

"Yes. No, my _ex_ -wife."

That was all Harry needed to hear, and he turned and hurried out of the now stuffy kitchen. 

A warm, uncomfortable sensation of crying washed over him, but no tears seemed to fall onto his cheeks.

Part of him knew that there was a rational explanation for all of this, and it couldn't have been that Liam was hiding something so big as an entire marriage from him, but then again he only told him - what?

When it was almost past the point of no return? 

_If Harry hadn't broken their kiss, would Liam have said anything at all?_ His chest felt tight.

He pinched his upper thigh and climbed the stairs to the second floor, losing his balance on the top steps so he bumped his knee. (That was probably going to bruise).

"Fuck! Lou - Louis, where are you?" Harry called out, stumbling down the hallway. "Let me out of this fucking house!"

Louis emerged from the second door on the right.

Harry stopped in his tracks and could see Niall and Zayn sat in chairs behind him, both of them with their sleeves in various states of being rolled up, in front of a large screen.

Some kind of game was paused, and Louis was wearing night vision goggles and a microphone. 

Harry laughed.

"Let me out. I'm done."

Louis looked down the hallway in one direction first, then the other.

He shook his head.

"No can do, amigo. It's not time yet."

Harry reached for the front of Louis' shirt, pulling him close.  
  
"Liam has a wife - are you happy now? You trapped me in here long enough for me to find out his biggest secret."

"Ex-wife," Louis corrected, slipping the goggles off slowly.

"Great, is anything real?"

"Yes," Louis said immediately. His eyes seem to gloss over with empathy, but there was also the beginnings of an impatient frown. "How he feels about you is real. How you feel about him - is also real."

He jabbed Harry in the chest with the goggles.

"Ow," Harry muttered, rubbing his nipple.

"Didn't Payne tell you how he got here? The trip he took?"

Harry thought back to the squeaky boots. Liam shivering, sopping wet. Sleeping on his couch. It already seemed like forever ago.

"No, he didn't."

Louis snorted and put the goggles back on. He looked like some kind of giant insect. A mix of voices could be heard from the earpiece he was fixing, putting it back into place.

He adjusted the microphone and almost turned away before he added:

"Yeah. It's _definitely_ not time yet."

The door closed in Harry's face.

He scoffed and threw both of his hands up, letting them slap against his thighs as they fell. _What did he mean though?_ He thought to himself. About Liam's trip, and how he got here.

Harry stared down at his nails, examining his cuticles.

Faint Christmas music floated up the stairs along with the sound of the microwave humming and a cabinet shutting.

He squeezed his eyes shut; no doubt he would wake up tomorrow with a pestering headache. Hopefully there would be time to recover, before Christmas dinner at his mum's house.

It was a few hours drive to Holmes Chapel. Harry was planning to leave as early as possible, but given everything that had happened - including all four lads staying over what would probably be the entire night at this point - he wasn't sure.

It seemed to be up in the air now.

Harry sat for a while outside of the media room, listening to Louis curse in perfect harmony with Zayn's protests and Niall's shouts of triumphs. He wondered what they were playing. He bit at his thumb, then eventually went back to the top of the stairs, neck aching.

That's when he froze, one hand on the banister.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs... was Liam.

Not the one that had been dancing rowdy with him, or kissing him in the kitchen, but the Liam he saw when he stopped at his hotel. His hair was smoothed down a little, his safe tie was straightened, and the coat jacket was covering the white shirt that probably had permanent stains.

Still, he looked perfect.

In his hand was a single envelope.

"Harry, I can explain. Please."

Harry wet his lips, still holding the banister.

"What is that?" He tried not to sound too interested. But curiosity was suddenly killing this lonely cat.

"Your card. The one I was gonna send but -."

"You brought it instead," Harry finished, leaning against the cold metal.

After he'd signed and dated his own card, he waited two solid weeks for Liam's card to arrive in exchange, but it never came.   
  
"Yeah. I wrote something. Will you let me read it?" Liam asked, looking between the loose flap of the envelope and Harry standing at the top of staircase. Harry nodded slightly, not saying anything. He tried to breathe in through his nose, and out his mouth, hoping that Liam couldn't hear him doing so and that the game wasn't magically paused - and the other three lads weren't standing right behind him.

He watched as Liam pulled out the card from inside the envelope, setting the envelope down. Harry couldn't see if there was a design or not from this distance.

But one thing was sure - the color.

It was bright red, just like his jumper that he'd taken off. 

Coincidences were indeed strange.

Liam held the card out in front of him. 

"To Harry," he read,

"I'm sorry this is late. I can see you making that face, knowing the post box is empty again. Do you remember the first one I sent you? That purple one with the - puppy on it that, I don't think was actually a Christmas card. But I didn't know what else to get. Everything seemed wrong. Anyway - I met Sydney a few years after that. Her mum and my mum were friends."

He was still holding it pretty high, so Harry had trouble seeing his expression. 

"Syd started her photography business, and took on extra clients trying to put away for me going to culinary school. But she wanted to travel more than she realised, and she saw the cards I wrote you every year, the letters I threw away,"

"Letters?" Harry said to himself, incredulous. _That would explain why the cards always seemed so short._

"Um - and I didn't want to go."

Liam stopped, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand.

"I had already left home and I couldn't go any further. So - I signed the papers, months ago. We were both so young when we got married. The reason I didn't change the picture was because I needed time to process the fact that I'm _not_ married anymore."

Liam paused, taking a visible breath.

"I still remember the day I left town. You were wearing that fluffy jacket, and that beanie with the hole, and had a book in your hand but I never saw what it was."

Liam dropped his hand slightly. His eyes seemed red-rimmed, a pained expression splashed plainly across his face.

"I'm sorry I never - that we never. But after missing two trains, losing my luggage, and getting caught in the rain, I made it from Paris to London. To tell you that I missed my best friend. You taught me how to be myself against the tide of the world telling me what to do. I loved Sydney, but I was never in love with her.

You were there first.

But, I guess I understand if you don't want to see me again and that - I should let you go."

Liam stopped speaking and folded the card back up. He set it on top of the envelope, looking up the stairs now.

Harry's feet felt glued to the ground. 

"I'm -" His brows pulled together, heart pumping, mind swirling with memories.

Liam was here for him, and he was going to lose him - again - if he didn't damn well do something about it. But before he could say anything, there was a loud click that he had heard before, and a new long beep coming from the front door. They both turned to look at the noise. 

Harry stiffened.

"You didn't seriously think I hadn't overridden the security system - and put controls up here as well? A wonderful, lazy man such as myself?" Louis' voice could be heard right behind Harry.

Niall and Zayn were in the doorway, peeking out. They were standing further apart though, with no hands on one another.

Harry's mouth gaped, but by the time he turned around it was too late.

The front door was open and Liam was gone.

Harry practically stumbled down the entire staircase, holding onto the metal railing for dear life, his knees buckled as he finally got to the bottom step. He stared out the open door. It was snowing quite steadily.

He couldn't see Liam anywhere, and Louis came down the stairs behind him.

When Harry turned around, there was a curious expression of surprise on Louis' face - which didn't happen very often. He had opened the card and was holding it with both hands, turning it over again and again as if to check every possible side. 

"It's blank," Louis said. 

"What?"

Harry reached for the card and his eyes traced over it, examining it as Louis had. Other than "To Harry -" scribbled on the inside and an image of a multi-colored wreath that reminded Harry of Halloween on the front, there was nothing else there.

Which meant...

_Everything Liam had just said came straight from his heart._

Harry took off running, through the open door, and into the snow.

He stopped at the edge of the small porch - not that there was much in front of any of these modern homes - and took a few steps in both directions along the walkway.

"Liam!" He called out.

Reaching the side of the house, near the main driveway, was a figure lying in the snow. Harry had no shoes on, but he didn't care, so he ran for it and yelped along the way.

"Cold, cold - Liam, are you - cold, okay?"

But Liam just slumped over, until Harry realised that he was rolling onto his back. He spread his arms and legs and started making a snow angel. Harry fell beside him, panting, snow lining his hair and his nose and cheeks were turning red. He mimicked Liam's movements, both of them laughing.

Liam finally sat up. At least he was wearing a coat and shoes.

"Jesus, Harry, you're gonna get hypothermia."

Harry was full-on shivering now, the chill of fresh snow seeping through his white t-shirt and clinging to his skin. His jeans also felt uncomfortably damp.

He extended his arms.

"Help," he croaked.

Liam shook his head and brushed the snow off his own face. 

"Alright. I'm picking you up. One, two -" Harry put his arms around Liam's neck. How was he still so... warm? Like a cookie. A nice, angel cookie with frosted lips. "Three." 

Harry didn't really know how much time had passed, but he had a vague memory of fresh hot chocolate warming his throat and found himself sitting on the floor by the fire in the living room, against Liam's chest.

He felt heavy and weightless at the same time, but he definitely wasn't out in the cold anymore.

_No, he had someone who cared for him, who brought him back from the darkness._

Harry leaned back to get a better view and Liam looked down.

"Hey," Liam said softly.

"Hey," Harry whispered.

"Louis said he'd get one of the other rooms ready. If...you wanna go upstairs?"

Harry sighed contentedly, nuzzling his nose against Liam's chest. He closed his eyes.

"Only if you carry me again."

Liam chuckled.

"It's a lot of stairs."

Without hesitation, Harry answered: "I trust you."

With a little bit of a exhale, Liam helped Harry down - letting his arm fall from beneath Harry's knees once they were just inside the room. Harry stumbled a little. Liam moved to close the door. It made a clear locking sound.

"So muscular," Harry said, stepping closer, and pinching Liam's forearm. "So strong."

Liam stood there, rubbing one hand across the back of his own neck. He was still wearing the tie, but the outer jacket was gone - maybe it was hanging somewhere, just waiting, and his shoes were gone too. 

"You could get some sleep."

At this, Harry frowned, rubbing his eye with one hand.

"I'm not tired. I'm awake now."

"You look exhausted."

"I'm not."

"Well, I am quite tired," Liam said, with a little smile. He reached for Harry's cheek and ran a thumb against the pink. And Harry reached for Liam's wrist.

"We need to talk about what you said. Or, not talk." Harry paused. "But I want you to know how I feel."

Harry was so close now he could feel Liam's hand on his lower back, and Harry was right back in front of those long eyelashes.

The whiskey headlights penetrated every sense of emotional armor he had left, anything that hadn't already been shocked out of his body by the sudden cold - and this time, it was Liam who closed the gap, meeting Harry's mouth with a passionate kiss. He leaned into it, fingers curling against Harry's back and Harry's hand sliding into the waves of Liam's hair.

Harry broke away. His lips were moist.

"I missed you. Every year, I just - you never called. Hell, I never called. My life was a mess.... the cards were all I had left."

It sounded pathetic, but it was true.

"I'm sorry," Liam whispered again. "Wish I'd known how you felt."

But Harry kind of shook his head and hummed.

"No, it's, there's no point in looking at it that way now... I don't think I even knew how I felt until I started to date. People who cared about me, a lot, but I couldn't give them all of me. I had already given the most important part of my heart to you. You wanna know what that was? The core, Liam.

I gave you the core of my heart. Thought you would never feel the same way."

"I do."

Harry kissed him again.

"I'm so impressed -" he said, breaths quickening. "What you did out there was the most amazing, attractive thing I've ever seen in my whole fucking life."

Liam kissed Harry's cheek and Harry simply held him closer, a smile spread on his face.

He met Liam's gaze when Liam squeezed his hand. It was silent for a moment.

"Good. I'm glad."

"Were you crying? It looked like you were crying."

"No," Liam scoffed, even though he was about to smile. "Some of Louis' glitter must've got into my eyes."

"Well," Harry said then, not believing a word of that, and gently brushing some of the loose hair out of Liam's eyes. "Can I cheer you up? Will you let me do that? After everything."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd love that."

Harry let go of Liam's hands and reached for the lower hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and off in one coordinated motion. He tossed it onto the floor.

Liam opened his mouth to speak, eyes trailing over Harry's abs, then looked back up at his lips.

He was blushing.

Harry pressed a hand over Liam's mouth, as Liam finally tried to say something. Harry laughed and let go, his fingers barely just moistened.

"Come on. Take a shower with me."

Liam nodded.

"Yes. Of course."

As in usual Louis style, even the en suite in a guest room was enormous. Beautiful floor to ceiling tile with mosaic patterns of browns and blues. Harry reached in past the glass to turn the water on, making it significantly warmer than he would if he wasn't taking a shower in the middle of winter with someone else. He helped Liam undress, and Liam reached for the stubborn buttons on Harry's jeans.

Harry gulped when he looked down.

_Holy shit._

Liam's Adam's apple bobbed as he took in Harry's revealed figure as well. Harry had had an idea judging by all the staring and dancing they'd done that evening, but being alone with Liam fully in the nude was another experience.

He felt his cheeks immediately burn into a blush and he couldn't force himself to look him in the eye.

"You look really fit," Liam managed.

Harry smiled and moved to press his cheek to Liam's face.

"So do you. That's why I want to suck you off," Harry said in a whisper.

He didn't know how much longer he was going to wait. There were goosebumps on his arms and he shivered against Liam's warmth, who started kissing at his exposed neck.

"Yeah? Harry," His voice sounded faint so Harry leaned back enough to gauge his expression. 

"Want you to, but never done it before."

Harry's eyebrows lifted.

"Never...?"

Liam shook his head, a dimple forming on one cheek.

"I - just didn't ask her to," he stammered, opening the glass door so that they could step inside. He followed Harry, closing it behind him, not touching him for a second. And it was a second too long so Harry settled against him, wrapping his arms around Liam's waist.

"Don't judge me," Liam said hurriedly.

"I'm not, I swear." Harry squeezed him. "Just trying to understand you."

"Alright." 

Harry moved to rub one of Liam's pectorals as if he were painting a picture with finger paints against the hair on his chest.

"W-What do I have to do exactly?"

He leaned forward to suck a generous hickey onto an area of Liam's skin, a spot not too high up so it couldn't be covered by a shirt. Harry really didn't want to have to explain it to his family and neighbours over stuffing and sticky toffee.

The steam of the water was heating the glass and creating a wall around them. At least several other people could have fit into the shower with them. There were a couple of handrails, a metal rack in one corner with some items in it, and a long marble bench.

"Not much," he murmured, "You relax, enjoy - and when you're almost there," Harry's hand trailed across Liam's thigh like a spider.

"Pull my hair. Gives me a warning. I like a little warning."

"How hard?" 

Harry grinned. He gave Liam another kiss.

"As hard as you want, love." Harry lowered himself to the shower floor, welcoming the stinging sensation of his knees against the tile.

Later, he stood at the window, wrapped in a white robe, waiting for Liam to get dressed in whatever extra clothes that Louis had managed to find for them.

He had taken one good look at his reflection in the framed mirror across the room, realised the fabric was embroidered with an "H" and rolled his eyes. Liam's had an "X" over the chest, as if meant for any mystery guest that were to stay in the room. It smelled faintly like eucalyptus and sugar-coated peaches.

The snow had stopped. The ground was blanketed with fresh white.

_They still hadn't discussed their plans for the next morning. Harry would be leaving for Holmes Chapel after breakfast. His mum and sister would be very disappointed if he didn't make it home for Christmas._

He slipped out of the robe, revealing clean boxer shorts and another t-shirt, this one dark blue, as Liam exited the bathroom and stood by the bed. They both crawled under the covers.

Without another word, Liam wrapped himself around Harry like they were in a cocoon, which was kind of a weirdly unsexy thought, but Harry secretly liked it.

He shook his head, hiding a smile as he pressed his face into the pillow. 

_Whatever the future held, they would figure it out together._

"Good night, Harry," Liam said. His voice really did sound exhausted.

"Night, Liam," Harry whispered, putting his hand on top of Liam's, the warmth radiating, before finally closing his eyes in peace.

When they finally woke, it was Christmas morning. The house was rather quiet. Harry sat up in the bed. Liam had already woken up, dressed, and gone.

He looked around for the spare jeans he found digging through some of his old stuff.

When Harry got downstairs, Liam was in a plaid long-sleeved flannel, one of Harry's shirts that was a little small, and a pair of dark jeans that Louis refused to reveal the origins of - but were definitely not his size. He insisted however that he would get Liam's suit dry-cleaned and all their clothes washed and given back at some point. 

"Morning, Lou, and Happy Christmas," Harry said to Louis, who was sitting at the island with his reading glasses perched on the edge of his noise.

Louis looked at him over the newspaper and a croissant. He eyed Harry's demeanor and the lightness with which he seemed to walk and talk.

Then Louis smiled, his nose crinkling, but said nothing and disappeared behind the paper. Liam moved to greet him with a soft kiss on the lips and a mug of coffee.

Harry blew on the top of it before taking a careful sip. He hummed quietly.

"Thank you, 's very kind of you."

Louis snorted, finally throwing the paper down.

"Always so coy, even after -"

Harry glared at him to shut up. Louis threw his hands up, before taking his reusable coffee stirrer and putting it between his lips as he stood up.

"I'm just saying." He mumbled the words. "You look happy."

There wasn't much time for breakfast as in actual food, so Harry wandered around looking for anything that might've been theirs. Niall and Zayn had apparently already left, Zayn trying to catch an early train. Per Louis, Harry found out, they had broken up overnight - this time, perhaps for good. Their work was taking them in different directions - and they were tired of bickering so much. But they would always care deeply for one another.

Harry actually felt relieved to hear this.

Perhaps there was a happier version of oneself there, and perhaps that version had someone else they needed to be with.

In between content sips of coffee, he decided to invite Liam to come home with him.

Liam agreed, said he would love to.

Harry's mum would definitely be surprised to see him, but enthusiastic to set another place at the table.

"Let's hit the road," Harry said eventually, stopping in the foyer after putting his loafers on.

Louis had stuffed a gift basket into Liam's hands, actually two - one for each of them, and he looked like a puppy that was being left behind when everyone else went to school or work.

"Thank you, for everything. I mean it."

Louis waved a hand.

"Not a problem. Nope. None whatsoever."

Harry leaned in to press a polite kiss to his cheek, a gesture which Louis returned by squeezing his forearm lightly.

"Sure you'll be alright?"

His family had gone on a long cruise for the holidays.

"Course," Louis answered. "I'm tough as nails."

"Well," Harry said, feeling Liam's nudging hand on his back. They did need to keep to a schedule and they still had to stop by Liam's hotel to get a couple of things and check out.

"The next time you're feeling lonely, and you need all of us to sleep over, I promise - you can just _ask_."

Harry got into the sleek, black car and sighed, looking around.

"This is nice. Louis' letting us have it?"

"Borrow," Liam corrected. "Letting us borrow it."

"Oh," Harry said. Their eyes met and they nodded to each other. "It's a ploy to get us to come back, isn't it?" 

"Yep. Sure is."

Harry looked behind them, as Liam started up the engine. Looking past the driver's seat he could see Louis at the front door, waving, newspaper hanging on for dear life under his arm.

"See you for New Year's!" Louis shouted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Harry laughed, and shrugged, shaking his head as Liam reached out for his hand. Their fingers entwined and settled behind the gearshift.

The sun was out, the clouds were mostly away, and it was a sharp, brisk Christmas morning. He turned up the heat then set the GPS - and looked over at Liam, who seemed to be at ease and enjoying their new ride. The blank card with nothing but Harry's name on it was tucked inside his breast pocket, safe and sound.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry said. 

"Me too," Liam said back, giving him something of a wink and they turned out of Louis' driveway and onto the private road.

The trees began to whip past in a blur. It wasn't long until Harry couldn't resist the urge to hit the radio button any longer. Christmas music spilled from the car speakers, and Harry leaned his head back against the headrest, thinking about how lucky he was and how this would surely be his merriest Christmas yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Happy holidays ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ ♡ Make sure to check out the other fics in the fest!
> 
> P.S. Louis' bachelor pad and the big stairs scene were both inspired by the movie 17 Again (2009).


End file.
